


Be Like a Love that Discovered the Sin

by seaisrisingtomeetus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Gentle Dom Stiles, Oh almost forgot, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, a lil bit, a lot a bit, allison knows what she wants and how to get it, and we stan a capable woman, hes so gentle wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaisrisingtomeetus/pseuds/seaisrisingtomeetus
Summary: So,Okay.It doesn't happenoften.It's really only when she's stressed or tired or just completelywrung out,So it doesn't happenthatoften,But it stilldoes,Or, Allison needs to be fucked unconscious, starring daddy kink!
Relationships: Allison Argent/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 159





	Be Like a Love that Discovered the Sin

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my ridiculously indulgent fic, because stiles' voice makes me want to weep and i'm 100% certain he'd treat a lady right

So,

Okay.

It doesn't happen  _ often. _

It's really only when she's stressed or tired or just completely  _ wrung out,  _

So it doesn't happen  _ that _ often,

But it still  _ does,  _

And it happens in moments like  _ these,  _ when she's stressed about curating this exhibit, running on like nine hours of sleep over the last  _ three days,  _ barely even  _ standing. _

Stiles is in his office, still working on a case at  _ one in the goddamn morning,  _ and Allison is so  _ fucking tired  _ right now, and sometimes she can't sleep without him there because when she's  _ this fucking tired,  _ the nightmares are  _ that much worse. _

So it's with tired eyes and weary fucking  _ bones  _ that she pads across the apartment to Stiles' office, wearing one of his shirts and the blue panties she knows he likes and a pair of knee socks and  _ nothing else.  _

And she leans against the door, watches him.

He barely looks up, immersed and hyper focused like he gets, and the little furrow between his brows would be so  _ endearing _ if Allison didn't feel like crawling out of her fucking  _ skin.  _

She swallows back a noise that would probably sound like how a pout looks and makes her way over to him, curls her arms around his shoulders, slides a hand through the neck of his GWU tee shirt and splays it across the warm, smooth skin of his chest. 

"Hey baby." He mumbles, pivoting to press a kiss to the inside of her forearm and she fucking  _ melts  _ a little because,

Okay, so

_ Here's the thing  _ about Stiles. 

His  _ voice  _ is  _ perfect.  _

It's gravelly and soft and he pours so much emotion into everything he says that its fucking  _ hypnotizing, _

And even now--his voice barely above a  _ whisper-- _ it's like that, full of love and affection  _ for her, _

And it  _ doesn't happen often, _

But when it does she can't stop herself from saying,  _ whispering,  _

_ "Please _ come to bed with me, daddy." Against his neck, her lips grazing the skin there, her breath warm and fanning over his throat,

And he's tensing, inhaling sharply, dropping the pen in his hand, and they're both listening to it clatter against the warped, wooden floor of his office,

And his hand comes up to grab hold of her wrist where is rests against his shoulder, turns his head to press a kiss to the sensitive skin there, her pulse thrumming against his lips where they  _ linger, _

And it's a testament to how far gone  _ she already is  _ that the tiny gesture has her knees feeling wobbly.

"Let me just finish this up, baby, and I'll be right there." He tells her, his voice soothing and  _ gravelly  _ and low and she can't fucking  _ stand it. _

She whines, high and  _ needy,  _ and if she were in any other state of mind she'd be  _ mortified,  _ but as it stands she fucking  _ whines  _ and it makes Stiles hum approvingly in the back of his throat.

"I promise sweetheart, just hold on a little longer." He says and Allison buries her face in his shoulder and pouts. 

Stiles chuckles lowly, the sound rolling over her nerves and setting them alight, and he spins the chair around until she's standing between his spread knees and his eyes are  _ dark  _ and  _ wanting  _ as they rove over her, the shirt that belongs to him draped over her lithe frame,  _ swallowing  _ it and the barness of her legs, legs that he  _ worships  _ at every given opportunity, legs with knee socks sliding down the shins--and she just  _ knows  _ he's thinking about those socks resting against his shoulders while he fucking  _ bends her in half, _

And heat is spreading across her cheeks and pooling at the base of her spine and making goosebumps race over her skin despite how warm she feels because he groans at the sight of her and she's fucking  _ weak. _

"Oh, sweetness, did you get dressed up just for me?" He purrs, a feral grin taking shape on his lips and Allison wants to press sweet,  _ pleading  _ little kisses on it.

And  _ dressed up _ is a relative term here, meaning that she dressed  _ specifically  _ to  _ rile him up, _ so she nods, her lower lip still jutting out a little, her hair bouncing around her face where it's loose and curling and  _ wild  _ just the way he likes and she's fucking  _ cultivated  _ this look over years of being with him and she knows  _ exactly  _ what it's doing to him.

"Uhuh, always for you." She says softly, her voice a little high, a little slurred, and  _ Jesus  _ it doesn't happen often,

But when it does Stiles gets this  _ possessive streak  _ and Allison fucking  _ provokes it. _

"That's right, baby." Stiles murmurs, his hands bracketing her soft thighs and pulling her closer, pulling her down across his lap, spreading her legs over his.

And he's _already_ half hard in his sweatpants, the ones that hang _damnably_ low on his hips every morning, the ones that make her wanna lick the v-shaped muscle leading _down._

And she's  _ soaking  _ in her blue panties and she  _ knows  _ he knows that and she just wants him to fucking  _ come to bed  _ and fuck her into  _ unconsciousness. _

Almost to prove her point, one of his hands comes up to grasp her hip, his thumb travelling across the bone and  _ down _ until it's pressed briefly against her clit, feather-light, making her fucking  _ gasp,  _ until it ghosts over her center, over the wet fabric of her silk panties and she  _ moans  _ as her greedy little fingers grip his tee shirt and pull him forward. 

Her lips fall against his, and at first it's sweet and sedate, their tongues rolling against each other, lacking any urgency, until his thumb makes its presence known again by  _ pressing down  _ on her clit and she gives a punched out sort of whine that sounds a little like a sob if she's honest, and then the kiss is  _ filthy, _

All teeth and tongue and  _ heat  _ and  _ need  _ and by the time he releases her to mouth against her jaw and down her throat she's fucking  _ panting. _

"Please," she begs, rolling her hips against his thumb, against his  _ fully hard  _ cock,  _ "please, daddy."  _ She  _ whines. _

"I can't baby." He says and it's all a game but she whimpers anyways and her head falls forlornly against his shoulder and he chuckles, the sound rumbling against her palms where they rest on his chest. "You can stay here, love, I'm not making you leave." He says as he spins his chair back around.

And it's _one in the fucking morning_ and she wants to fucking _sleep_ but she can't without him, not tonight, and it's all she can do to keep the whimper in her throat when he pulls his thumb away to pick up another pen and _continue working_ like he doesn't have a lap full of his fucking _wife,_ wearing an outfit literally devised to drive him crazy, he just _continues to work._

So she starts rolling her hips minutely against his, like maybe if she keeps the motion small he won't notice, and he lets her get away with it for a couple rotations until one of his hands comes up to her back and smooths down the swaying plane of it, stilling her hips. 

And she fucking groans,  _ frustrated  _ and  _ needy  _ and she doesn't even  _ care  _ because she fucking  _ needs him.  _

"If you can't be good, you can't stay." He murmurs into her ear, his voice so fucking  _ low  _ and exactly what she needs so she does as he says,

_ Because it doesn't happen often, _

So her hips are just resting against his, his cock right up against the core of her, her panties probably soaking through the fabric of his sweatpants and she  _ can't move.  _

And the sound of his pen scratching against the papers in front of him is the only sound in the room over the rapid beat of her heart where it pounds against her ribcage and his other hand is still resting against the small of her back, not holding her in place, not keeping her still, just  _ resting  _ there. 

Like a reminder, a subtle, physical note against her skin to  _ behave,  _ and then she can have what she wants. 

It's torture, she decides, because she can feel every incremental movement he makes, can feel every shift of his muscles as he flips a paper over or reaches for a new one or flips his pen over and over his long, clever,  _ nimble _ fingers, fingers she wants to have  _ buried _ inside her, and the hardness of him is pressed up against the softness of her and she wants to fucking  _ ride him _ until her thighs are  _ shaking _ with the effort.

And she doesn't know how long she stays like that, sitting in his lap, her thighs going numb and her breath coming in pants,

But she can only be so patient at the best of times and right now is not exactly the best of times so she really can't help but ask, "How much longer?" her voice high and petulant 

He hums, a sound she can feel against her nose where it's pressed into his neck, and strokes his hand over her waist before lifting his hips up ever so slightly, could almost be an accident, really,

But then he does it again, rolling against her before stilling again and she's panting and giving these breathy little moans with every exhale and  _ fuck.  _

He keeps doing that, hips rolling then halting, giving her the barest of moments of pleasure only to take it away again. 

"Daddy,  _ please."  _ She begs and he chuckles. 

"Yes baby?" He asks and she squirms until he bucks back up into her again. 

"Don't tease me." She whimpers into his neck and gets the exact  _ opposite  _ of what she'd meant when Stiles just fucking  _ stops.  _

"Nooo." Allison whines and he just coos at her. 

"You're so pretty on my lap, baby." He compliments and it deepens the flush in her cheeks. "I would hate to have to make you leave."

So she stills, panting, trying to control the slight hitching of her lips by twisting his shirt up between her fingers. Luckily he lets her do it, doesn't protest to the vice-like grip she has on the fabric. 

And eventually she calms, slowly, haltingly; 

Her heart rate slowing and her grip on his shirt easing until she's merely resting her hands against his chest between them.

And she doesn't know what time it is when she finally drifts, her lids falling shut and her head lolling against his and he chuckles softly, running the hand on her back up and down in a soothing little circuit and she just drifts. 

It could be an hour or a year later for all she knows when he turns his head to press feather-light kisses against the side of her head. She rouses herself, feeling pleased and sleepy. 

"You still with me, beautiful?" Stiles asks and she mumbles her assent. He chuckles. "Yes, that's very convincing."

She pushes against him with her shoulder, expressing her annoyance without actually having to move from her  _ exceedingly  _ comfortable spot in the hollow of his throat. 

"You ready to go to bed?" He asks and there's--there's a little _undercurrent_ there, one that's asking her _are we going to bed to sleep or_ _are we going to bed so your thighs can find a permanent home over my hips?_

And just  _ thinking  _ about it, about Stiles between her thighs in  _ any  _ capacity, has her blinking awake, nuzzling against his throat, dragging her lips over the heated skin, not a kiss him but  _ a suggestion  _

Stiles' hands fist themselves in her shirt, the shirt that belongs to  _ him,  _ and he's possessive right now and she knows it,  _ that's why she's wearing it,  _ and she oh so slowly rocks her hips against his, her thighs tingling awake after  _ however long  _ spent stationary,

And Stiles growls a little, one hand sliding up under _his shirt,_ finding her nipple and rolling it between his fingers and Allison fucking _keens._

"God you're beautiful, do you know what you do to me?" He asks, pointedly bucking up into her, letting her feel how hard he is.

She whines, unable to form a sentence, licking over his neck and making high,  _ desperate  _ little noises into the skin there.

"It's okay baby, shh," he soothes, the hand not occupied under her shirt smoothing over her hair and cupping the back of her neck, "you're okay. I've got you, daddy's gonna make you feel so good, honey."

She nods, leans into his shoulder and pants a little because it's his fucking  _ voice  _ saying  _ that word,  _ the one she hardly ever uses for him, and it's fucking  _ overwhelming.  _ She's completely  _ overwhelmed  _ and she doesn't want it any other way.

"Can you be good for me, baby?" He asks her, voice so soft and  _ loving  _ she wants to kiss him until he can't breathe. 

But she can't because she's trying to be good,  _ wants _ to be good, so she'll keep her lips to herself. 

She nods, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, the one that's soft and faded from a million washes, the one  _ she _ wears to bed sometimes, the one he's had almost since they started dating. 

Allison's hair is still wild around her face, mussed from his fingers, and she can't even imagine what she looks like right now, lips red and glistening from her teeth worrying at them, cheeks and chest pink, socks uneven and sliding down her legs,  _ his shirt  _ hanging off her shoulders. 

And Stiles is just  _ drinking her in,  _ eyes running over her, gaze so fucking  _ heated  _ she can  _ feel  _ it on her skin. 

"Good." He praises and she whimpers because  _ god  _ she wants to be good. 

"I'm gonna take us to bed, okay?" He checks in, hand sliding under her hair, massaging the nape of her neck, grounding her. 

"Okay." She breathes, knowing he wants a verbal response from her, wants to know that she's  _ here. _

And he does, he stands from his chair with her still in his lap and she hurriedly wraps her legs around his waist and he chuckles. 

"I've got you, beautiful." He says into her hair and she nods. She knows. 

When they make it to their bedroom, Stiles lays her gently on the bed, kisses the line of her throat, hikes her shirt-- _ his shirt-- _ up and over her head, plants kisses against her sternum. 

And Stiles does this thing,

When she gets like this,

Like he can't  _ stop himself, _

His tongue laves over every inch of her chest, circling her nipples before sucking them into his mouth, trails over her hip bones while his hands pull her blue panties--the ones he  _ loves  _ to see her in--to the side. 

He doesn't even  _ pull them off, _

And his eyes are flicking up to hers and they're so blown she can hardly see the whiskey of his irises and he's  _ holding her goddamn panties to the side  _ before licking one  _ long  _ stripe over her center. 

Allison cries out, high and needy and  _ desperate,  _ and her hand flies to his head, to tangle her fingers in his hair and  _ keep him there,  _ but she doesn't get that far before he's snatching her wrist and pinning it to her side. 

He hums an admonition against her while his tongue keeps fucking  _ giving,  _ rolling over her and around her and  _ into  _ her, flicking her clit and sucking it into his mouth and she can't  _ fucking touch  _ like he knows she wants to. 

And then a finger is teasing at her entrance for a bare few  _ seconds  _ before Allison's  _ pleading,  _ "please,  _ please,  _ daddy, need it,  _ need you."  _

So Stiles groans against her, sinks two fingers in with  _ ease  _ she's so fucking  _ wet  _ for him. His long, nimble,  _ clever  _ fingers are curling so fucking  _ perfect  _ over her g-spot and his tongue is working over her clit like making her come will be his  _ deliverance, _

And she comes, stars dancing in front of her vision, pulsing around his fingers and under his tongue and fucking  _ writhing  _ against the sheets, rolling up into his mouth, chasing the feeling. 

He gentles her through it, fingers stilling and tongue slowing, just barely pressing down on her clit. 

And she's fucking  _ gasping _ and maybe even drooling a little as he kisses his way back up to her face, claims her mouth in a kiss that's messy and uncoordinated because Allison's brain hasn't come back online yet and she doesn't know if it will because his fingers are  _ still inside her,  _ and gently fucking in and out of her and the second she notices she whines. 

"Shh, it's okay baby," Stiles breathes against her lips, "I've got you, sweetness."

And  _ Jesus fucking Christ  _ it's like they've only just started because she's riding that peak again, stuck in limbo for way too long and  _ it doesn't happen often, _

And she moans, high and sweet, tangles her fingers in his hair and fucking  _ rides  _ his fingers and she wants nothing more than to rest her legs ever his shoulders, to feel the slick  _ drag  _ of him inside her, to whimper,

_ "Daddy,"  _

In his ear,

"Daddy,  _ please."  _ She begs against his lips and he groans, rearing back and reaching down to squeeze the base of his cock, still trapped in his sweatpants, his other hand still at the apex of her thighs, and she bites her lip and his gaze zeroes in on the action. 

"Do you want something, gorgeous?" He asks, low and  _ dangerous  _ and commanding and she nods, her tongue coming out to swipe over her kiss-swollen,  _ bruised  _ bottom lip.

"If you want something," he starts, his fucking  _ voice  _ making her shiver, "you have to ask for it." And his hand strokes over his covered erection, his eyelids fluttering a little at the sensation. 

Allison whimpers, raising herself up on her elbows, and his fingers  _ drag  _ over her g-spot, and her head drops backwards as she lets out a throaty moan.

"What do you want, Allison?" He coaxes, fingers curling over and over and then his thumb circles her clit and she's  _ done for, _

She comes  _ again,  _ moaning and gasping as her legs  _ shake,  _ and it takes far longer to come back this time.

When her breathing regains some semblance of normalcy she realizes she's flat on her back again with Stiles teeth at the juncture of her neck and her shoulder, worrying at the skin there, his fingers pulled out and resting against her thigh, holding it out and  _ open  _ for him.

"Daddy," she breathes and Stiles hums against her throat,

"Tell me what you want, love, and you can have it." He promises and  _ fuck  _ she fucking  _ wants. _

"Wanna suck your cock." She whimpers and he  _ groans  _ as his hips  _ snap  _ forward against hers, sending sensation skittering across her nerves, like he  _ can't fucking help it,  _ and she cries out,

"Oh,  _ baby,"  _ he sighs and raises himself up a little bit to capture her lips in a  _ bruising  _ kiss she can hardly keep up with two orgasms in. 

"God, you're  _ beautiful,"  _ he says, resting back against his heels moving his hand from her thigh to her face, his thumb pulling on her bottom lip until her mouth falls open. "You want daddy's cock?"

She whines as his thumb ventures in and rests against her tongue. Her lips close around it and she  _ sucks, _

She nods and he hums,  _ rumbles,  _ really, and pulls his thumb from her mouth, ignoring her pitiful little whimper at the loss and lifts her from the bed, encourages her to sit up. 

And Allison follows his directives, doesn't reach for his cock even though she's  _ aching  _ for it because she's trying to be  _ good.  _

Once Stiles has her on her knees with him standing at the end of the bed he pulls her into a kiss, her hair held tightly in his hand, and fucking  _ devours  _ her.

She's distracted by the kiss, by the drag of his tongue against hers, almost doesn't hear his sweatpants dropping to the floor but  _ she does,  _ and then he breaks away from the kiss to pull his shirt over his head and he tries to bring her back in for a kiss but she doesn't let him, 

She dips down and peppers open mouthed kisses all over his chest and he lets her, the hand in her hair resting but not pulling, before she travels down, her hands gripping his hips for purchase as she fucking  _ licks  _ that muscle,

The one leading  _ down, _

The one she's been fantasizing about for  _ hours, _

And he  _ groans  _ because he loves having her tongue on him and it's nothing,  _ nothing  _ compared to the sound he makes when she takes hold of his cock and lets it slip past her lips. 

"Oh,  _ baby."  _ He groans and Allison can  _ feel  _ herself get wetter at the sound, "Fuck, you feel so good, Ally." 

She moans around his cock and sinks down further, her tongue pressing up against the vein on the bottom of his cock, circling the head as she bobs back up.

And it's good, it's so  _ fucking good  _ because one hand in clenching in her hair and the other is resting against her hollowed cheek, thumb running over where her lips meet his cock and she's looking up at him,

And his mouth just drops open on a moan, head tilting back as he gets lost in it, and Allison feels  _ powerful.  _

"Fuck, that's so good, baby,  _ fuck."  _ Stiles babbles above her and she'd smirk if she could because she fucking  _ loves  _ making him feel good. 

But then he's pulling her off by her hair and she's going, her mouth still open and red and  _ shining,  _ and his lips are sealing against hers in a long, deep,  _ dirty  _ kiss. Then he takes the hand cupping her cheek and uses it to tilt her head to the side so he can murmur directly into her ear,

"I don't wanna come until I'm fucking you so good you're  _ begging _ me to let you come again." 

And she  _ moans,  _ her voice raw, already feeling fucked out, but she feels like she can't go another  _ second  _ without him inside her.

"Please, daddy." She begs and he pulls his fingers out of her hair and encourages her down, crawls over her and settles himself between her legs, his cock resting against her blue panties, the ones she's  _ still wearing,  _

And he's kissing her and kissing her and  _ kissing her,  _ tongue and teeth and heat and  _ need,  _ but underneath all of that is  _ love  _ and  _ devotion  _ and  _ adoration  _ and before she knows it there's a lump in her throat and she  _ needs  _ him. 

"Please." She whispers against his lips and his hips roll forward.

"Don't worry, baby," he murmurs, "I'll give you what you want."

And she  _ knows  _ he will. 

And then he's pulling her panties down and off, rearing back to get himself out of the way, kissing the inside of her knee and smiling down at her. She smiles up at him and it's like he can't help kissing it from her lips. 

And then he's back between her legs, lining himself up, and she's  _ whimpering,  _ her legs already shaking with how much she wants him to push forward. 

And he  _ does,  _ gently,  _ slowly,  _ giving her time to adjust and peppering kisses across her collar bones while she tosses her head back at that first initial push, as her chest fucking  _ heaves  _ with panted breaths and her hands tangle in the hairs at the back of his neck. 

"Daddy," she breathes, "daddy,  _ I need you." _

Stiles groans,  _ bends _ to her, to what she's been  _ begging for  _ for probably hours at this point and  _ god  _ it's good, it's  _ exactly  _ what she wants when she feels him pull back out only to drive back in, just as slow but  _ hard  _ and  _ deep  _ and  _ deliriously  _ good. 

He tries to maintain the slow pace, tries to hold himself back, she  _ knows  _ he does and she's absolutely not having it tonight. Tonight she needs him to fuck her  _ unconscious. _

"God,  _ fuck, Stiles  _ fucking  _ move."  _ She demands and he huffs a helpless laugh against her throat. 

"I'm sorry, what was that sweetness?"

And Allison is fucking  _ manic  _ with the need to  _ feel him, _

_And it doesn't_ fucking happen often _,_

So she lets him have it, breathes, "Daddy,  _ please _ fuck me." 

And that's it, that's  _ all  _ it takes to have him snapping his hips against hers, murmuring praises in her ear, telling her how  _ good  _ she is, how  _ proud _ he is, how  _ gorgeous  _ she looks like this, legs spread  _ wide _ for him.

"You, just for you." She gasps as he pounds into her, grabs hold of her hips for more leverage, and  _ fucks  _ her. 

"That's right, baby." He rumbles in her ear. "All for me." He fucking  _ growls  _ and she moans and her nails  _ rake  _ over his skin, leaving angry, red scratches down his back.

He hisses but he doesn't slow, only leans back to watch her, watch the flush spread across her chest, look at her hair spread out on the white pillows behind her, his eyes dark and wild and  _ stunning.  _ Leans back to get his thumb on her clit, to circle it and  _ lavish _ it with attention and because she knows exactly what he wants she  _ begs  _ for it.

"Daddy,  _ fuck  _ daddy  _ please  _ let me come, I wanna  _ come," _ she babbles, her voice high and fucked out and whimpering, "wanna come on your cock."

_ "Fuck  _ baby." He curses and drives into her, his thumb continuing its pattern over her clit and she hovers there on the  _ edge,  _ hardly  _ breathing,  _

Until she's  _ gone,  _ her vision whiting out, legs  _ shaking  _ with the force of it, her back arching off the bed, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open on a silent cry,

And he works her through it, cursing and groaning until his rhythm is stuttering, his hips snapping forward a bare handful of times before he's burying himself  _ deep  _ inside her and coming, moaning her name and sliding his lips gracelessly over her neck, up her jaw, against her lips and she kisses back just as messily.

They lay there in the afterglow, kiss slowly gaining articulation until they're moving against each other, slow, languid;  _ loving. _

"I love you." She whispers, eyes drooping shut and body  _ exhausted,  _ but sated. 

"I love you too, baby." He says, fingers pushing the hair out of her face and expression so damn  _ fond  _ it makes her chest crack open a bit. 

"Thank you." She tells him sincerely and he grins. 

"You're welcome." He says, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other, "I mean, it  _ was  _ a hardship, fucking you through three orgasms and straight into exhaustion, but that's  _ my  _ cross to bear, and bear it I shall." 

She rolls her eyes and smacks his shoulder lightly, pointedly lifts her hips just to hear him hiss and pull out, glaring at her without any bite. She giggles softly and rolls to retrieve her shirt _ \--his shirt-- _ from the floor. 

He disappears into their bathroom before coming back with a wet washcloth and cleaning himself off before swiping it gently over her thighs, her center, kissing her knee in apology when she shudders at the texture against her thoroughly worked over skin. He tosses it somewhere to her noisy, wordless protest and smacks the light off on his way back.

Stiles flops down next to her, grinning dopily and clumsily pulling the blanket out from under and then over them. 

He kisses her forehead and she finally,  _ finally  _ feels the call of sleep. 

"I'm  _ rapturously  _ in love with you." He whispers and she can see the cracked open, raw,  _ wondering  _ look on his face without needing to open her eyes. 

"Me too." She mumbles, burrowing further into her pillow and reaching out to him, humming contentedly when he pulls her into his arms and somewhat over his chest. 

"Get some sleep, beautiful." He murmurs into her hair. "You deserve it."

And she does. 


End file.
